Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 133

Chapter 133

Miexha pov

It’s been days. Maybe weeks. I stopped counting the moment I realized he wasn’t leaving.

He kept showing up at our apartment in Red City like he belonged here.
Like this was his life, too. I never told him our address. But somehow, he knew. He always knew.

He came with pink cupcakes. Talking teddy bears. Helium balloons that hovered loyally beside her like cartoon clouds. He made her laugh so hard she snorted. He brought me sunflowers, once.

Sunflowers.

I almost laughed—like the bitter kind of laugh you choke on.

He never gave me flowers when we were together. Not even a single petal.

So I stayed cold. Cordial—for Jamie’s sake—but firm.

"Don’t get comfortable. We’re still getting divorced."

He’d just nod. Quiet. Like he agreed. Like he respected that.

Then he’d stay. Too long. Sit too close. Laugh too loudly. As if this cramped apartment with the flickering hallway bulb was home.

And every night, after dinner—once Jamie was tucked into her bed—I’d walk him to the door and press my hand to his chest.

“You have to go now.”

Tonight was no different.

Except it was.

Because this time… he didn’t move.

His fingers gently wrapped around my wrist.

“Please,” he whispered.
“Start over with me.”

I blinked. His voice was stripped bare. No charm. No smooth delivery. Just a boy again.

I pulled my hand back

“No. You don’t get to say that now.”

“I mean it,” he said, stepping closer.
“This time… no pressure, no pretending. I want you. Just you. Please, Miexha. I—”

I shoved him.

“Stop.”

He went quiet.

And then—he did something I never expected.

He knelt.

Right there. On the tile floor.

“Please,” he said.
“Just… one more chance. If I mess it up, I’ll sign the papers. I’ll let you go.”

And something in his voice broke.

“I saw it,” he whispered.
“That summer night. You and Zatariel. The confession… I was there.”

My world tilted.

“I didn’t know if I was jealous or guilty,” he went on.
“Guilty, because I was the wall between you two. Jealous, because… you never looked at me like that.”

I didn’t speak. Couldn’t. I'm feeling guilty as if it was my fault from the very beginning.

“I didn’t know how to talk about it. I was scared. So I... Pretended it never happened.” His voice cracked.
“But then Zatariel died… and I never apologized. Not to him. Not to you.”

He looked down, throat trembling.

“That night… the one between us. I was drunk. But it wasn’t just the alcohol. I…” he swallowed.
“I wanted to be important to you. Even if it was just for one night.”